


This Is Not a Nightmare

by eggshellseas



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Captivity, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Drug-Induced Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Jerry is a creep, M/M, Post-Movie, Stalking/kidnapping, minor blood/violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:17:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggshellseas/pseuds/eggshellseas
Summary: Charley gets the tingling feeling of being looked at. He peeks up to see if it's someone he knows, and immediately thinks he must be hallucinating. Exhaustion is getting to him, or he's asleep and having a nightmare - something - because this absolutely can’t be real. Jerry, his old neighbor, the vampire, who Charley had staked in the heart and watched turn to dust is sitting there staring at him. “Hey,” Jerry says.





	1. Chapter 1

The library is always packed during finals, even this late at night. Since seats are at a premium, Charley doesn't look up when someone sits down across from him at the study table, just continues poring over his history notes.

After a moment though, he realizes that the newcomer isn’t doing anything. There’s no sound of a backpack rustling, no laptop booting up, and Charley gets the tingling feeling of being looked at. He peeks up to see if it's someone he knows, and immediately thinks he must be hallucinating. Exhaustion is getting to him, or he's asleep and having a nightmare - _something_ \- because this absolutely can’t be real. Jerry, his old neighbor, the vampire, who Charley had staked in the heart and watched turn to dust is sitting there staring at him. 

“Hey,” Jerry says.

Charley’s stomach drops. “I killed you,” he whispers.

Jerry’s mouth quirks, and he leans forward to speak softly. “I know. I’m impressed, kid. Really I should thank you for the vacation. I feel so well-rested.”

Charley’s brain absolutely does not want to process what he’s seeing, but a clear thought hits him. What does this mean for the people Jerry turned - for _Amy?_ Charley blinks, hoping it will all go away, but Jerry’s still there when he reopens his eyes.

“Why are you-” Charley stops. It seems like a stupid question. “How did you find me?” he settles for instead, frantically trying to think back to the last time he heard from his mom.

Jerry beckons Charley in close like he has a secret to tell. Against his better judgement, Charley hunches over. “There’s this thing called Facebook,” Jerry murmurs into his ear, and then chuckles. “Too bad you and Amy broke up by the way, but those high school things - you know.” Jerry pauses and glances around the library floor. “I bet you’re getting some real nice college pussy.”

Charley doesn’t respond. He’s trying to come up with a plan, but really all he can think of is to wait for a good moment to run. Maybe pull a fire alarm? He’d gotten complacent in the year and a half since Jerry. To be honest, he’d really just wanted to forget that vampires were a thing. Beneath the table, Charley palms his phone out of his pocket. He keeps his eyes on Jerry. Maybe he can text Peter. If Peter even still has the same number, fuck. Maybe he can text his mom to try and contact Peter, and warn her, and warn Amy, and-

“Like that,” Jerry interrupts his thoughts. He follows Jerry’s gaze to a girl coming out of the restroom. “Is that what you’ve been up to, Charley?” Charley just eyes Jerry warily. He’s had practice texting stealthily of course - he _is_ a teenager, but trying to absolutely not look down for even a second is still a challenge. If these weren't such dire circumstances, it would probably be funny to see what his autocorrect is coming up with. “What would you do to stop me from killing her?” Jerry asks. “Are you still a hero?”

This is insane. Having this conversation with this monster is insane. So many people are around and completely unaware there’s a shark in the pool. Charley barely beat him _once._ “I’d...I’d fight you,” Charley says, shaky.

There’s a ghost of a smile on Jerry’s face. “And if I won?”

“I’d...I don’t know. Tell you to kill me instead I guess.”

That answer seems to surprise Jerry, but he looks pleased. “Nice,” he offers, “but too easy. Would you pick a replacement?”

“No!” Charley says, a little too loud, earning himself some dirty looks from other students. Jerry’s smirk widens. Surely at least one of them must think it’s weird to see this grown-up hanging out at the campus library. Jerry certainly doesn't look like a professor, with his muscles and his wife beater and the whole dark, slightly sleazy _thing_ he has going on. Fuck, they probably think he’s a dealer or something.

That gives him an idea, and Charley slowly pushes up from his chair. Jerry's eyes narrow in warning. “Hey, this guy's a pervert.” Charley starts off uncertain, but steels himself and gets louder. “This guy’s flashing people!” Jerry stands, looking murderous. It’s a gamble, but Charley _thinks_ he knows him well enough to know that he won’t do anything this public. “He's not even a student!” Charley adds wildly, and then just starts yelling for security as he dashes for the emergency exit.

He heads straight for his dorm (and he _really_ hopes Jerry needs an invitation for that, or he’s totally screwed), because he still has some gear gathering dust in the closet - or maybe under the bed. He’s totally fallen off the ball with this supernatural crap.

As soon as he’s in his room, he calls Peter while he starts digging through his stuff. He calls him four times in a row, leaving increasingly hysterical voicemails before Peter finally answers on the fifth attempt.

“Do you know what time it is?” Peter grouses. “I don’t actually - I’m genuinely asking.”

“So Jerry came back to life,”  Charley says, because there doesn’t seem to be any way to lead in to it.

There’s a pause. “Well that’s…unexpected.”

“Uh, yeah,” Charley half-laughs, buzzed on adrenaline. “Have you heard of this kind of thing happening?”

He hears some rustling from Peter’s end. “Not off the top of my head. I can poke around.” There’s another pause. “I don't think I'm turning back into a vampire, so there's some good news.”

“What the fuck, dude?” Charley says. “I need to know what to do!”

“I’d advise you get out of town,” Peter tells him.

“Hey, I got him before. Maybe I just have to kill Jerry every few years. I can handle that. Maybe.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Get out of town and come meet me, alright? Same fabulous penthouse stocked with goodies that can hurt creatures of the night.”

“Okay,” Charley says, thinking aloud. “I just have to wait until the sun comes up, then I can - what? Hop on a bus?” He’s on a college student budget after all.

“I will buy you a plane ticket.” The tone of Peter’s voice suggests he is disgusted by the thought of bus travel. “First flight to Las Vegas out of - where are you?”

“Sacramento.”

“Consider it done, mate.”

There’s a small part of Charley that thinks Peter might immediately get distracted, or pass out or something, but it's only five jittery minutes before his phone buzzes with the flight details.

He doesn’t want to panic anyone, but he sends Amy a Facebook message just telling her to watch out. The break-up had been, well, practical, if not quite one-hundred percent amicable, but he still cares about her. He wishes she was farther away, maybe on another continent and out of danger, but she’s just down in Santa Barbara. He texts his mom too. ‘Hey, remember how vampires are real? There's been some activity lately. I'm fine, just don't invite any strangers in. And maybe stay home at night. :)’ He hopes the emoji strikes the right balance between ‘take this seriously’, and ‘everything will be okay.’

The door opening makes him jump, but it's just his roommate Dan. Charley’s relieved for a bare second, but then Dan says, “Hey bro, your, like, dad or someone is here.”

“ _Fuck_!”

Dan looks at him sympathetically. “I know that feeling, dude. Parents, you know?”

“Just - don't talk to him. You didn't tell him he could come in did you?”

“Wow, intense, man. No, I just said I'd tell you he was here.”

It’s a relief that Jerry needs the invite, Charley thinks, but only a small one considering how _he fucking blew up their house_ last time. Charley doesn't want to find out what Jerry will do now if he’s ignored. His heart hammering in his chest, he walks over to the door. Dan had left it cracked open, and Charley can see Jerry leaning on the frame, peering inside with a furious glare. As soon as he spots Charley though, his face goes relaxed and friendly. Charley shivers.

“That was real cute back there, guy.”

“Thanks,” Charley says dryly.

Jerry reaches a hand out, fingers hovering close to the invisible barrier. “Now, you gonna be a good boy and come out here?”

Dan suddenly pops up behind him, probably trying to be supportive, or maybe just nosey.

“Dan,” Charley stutters, “Dan this is-”

“Jerry Dandrige,” Jerry says, flashing a toothy smile, “Charley’s stepdad.”

Before Charley can stop him, Dan is sticking his hand out over Charley’s shoulder and right through the doorway. Jerry grasps it, and gives Charley a pointed look.

“Oh, Charley never mentioned - hey, is your mom here too?” Dan asks.

“No, just me, just in town on business,” Jerry says, eyes still on Charley. It’s rapidly getting weird how long Jerry’s been shaking Dan’s hand.

“Just leaving,” Charley grits out, subtly trying to elbow Dan back and away from the vampire. Jerry lets him go easily, but the tension doesn't lessen.

“Awkward,” he hears Dan whisper under his breath.

Then, as if things couldn’t get worse, Charley hears a group of people coming down the hall. Jerry’s smile turns predatory. “Okay,” Charley snaps, stepping across the threshold.

Jerry immediately gives him a slap on the back. “Okay sport, walk your old man to his car, alright?” he says genially. Charley can't contain his eye-roll, because, _creepy._

“Is that really necessary?” he mutters. Jerry just grabs the back of his neck and pushes him towards the stairwell.

“Nice to meet you,” Jerry calls over to Dan. Charley struggles in Jerry’s grip enough to turn his head and add that he’ll be right back. A thumb digs into the base of his skull in what Charley suspects is a - _You wish, buddy._ But to his surprise, once Jerry’s manhandled him down to the the building’s entrance, he lets him go. “No hard feelings,” Jerry says, and holds his hand out. Charley stares, dumbfounded.

“You killed my best friend,” he finally gets out.

“Technically, _you_ killed him. And really he was your former best friend, wasn’t he?” Jerry says, giving him a condescending pat on the shoulder. Charley gets a stab of guilt in his gut. _Technically_ , Jerry is full of shit, but that doesn't mean Charley doesn’t still feel bad about Ed.

“Give me your hand, Charley,” Jerry tells him, stern now. Charley does, however hesitantly. Jerry squeezes, not hard, which is another surprise, but then a sharp nail drags over his palm. There’s a quick flare of pain, and then Jerry pulls his hand back and licks the little bit of Charley’s blood off his fingertip and gives a hum of satisfaction.

That, more than anything else so far during this horrible, terrible shitshow of night, makes Charley’s hair stand on end. He's waiting for Jerry’s face to go all beast mode, bracing himself for a fight, but Jerry just gives him a look that Charley could maybe say is affectionate. “Night,” Jerry says, reaching out one last time to ruffle Charley’s hair.

Charley's knees are shaking his whole way back to the room.

He's got a bunch of text messages from Peter, completely incomprehensible, full of typos and exclamation points. Based on that he knows it's not going to be anything he wants to hear, but he calls Peter anyway.

“Well, I don't know exactly how to…” Peter starts and then trails off.

“I think he came back weird,” Charley says quietly, checking to see if Dan’s within earshot.

“He’s _there_?” Peter shouts.

“Not now! He just...came by, and was creepy and menacing, but he didn’t hurt me. Why wouldn’t he just kill me? Is this some cat and mouse thing? Why the fuck is this happening?”

Peter sighs, sounding disturbingly sympathetic. “He might - I think he thinks - you're like his...mate?” Pete's voice goes up at the end, as if making it a question will soften the blow.

“You’re saying that in a British way, right? Because you’re British?” Charley tries, a little desperately

“Afraid not,” Peter says. “It seems to be a reverse siring thing. I’m making myself a Midori sour, and then I’ll do some more research; you just get here, alright? Silver lining: it’s probably not going to be difficult to get close enough to stake him again.”

“I hate everything,” Charley says, because he is _so_ not prepared to deal with this fresh new hell.

“I don’t blame you, kid.”

Charley doesn't sleep a wink waiting for daybreak. He tries not to think about his conversation with Peter. He tries not to think about Jerry touching him. He really tries not to panic every time he hears someone out in the hall and worry that Jerry might have come back. He fails on every count.

Finally, the sun comes up. Charley’s ordered his Uber and got a bag ready to go. He’s got a wooden stake tucked into his jacket. He doubts he'll get it through security, but he’s not comfortable leaving the dorm without some sort of defense - even if it's daytime. Outside the sky is still all pink and baby blue, and campus is quiet and serene. Breathing fresh air makes Charley feel a little less cagey. He goes to check his driver's status, and that's when he gets hit in the back of head, and everything goes dark.

-

When Charley comes to, he immediately grimaces with the fierce pain throbbing in his skull. He's also got a crick in his neck and both his shoulders are stiff and sore. When he tries to stretch, he finds that his hands are cuffed behind his back. So the situation is already looking great when Charley realizes three things at once. First, his neck hurts because he was passed out slumped against a car window, second, the car is moving, and finally, he is about to throw up.

“Roll down the window,” he manages to say, feeling the dry heaves start. It’s too late though, and Charley just leans over as much as he can in his position and pukes on the car floor.

“Nice,” a voice deadpans when he's done retching.

Charley looks over and is simultaneously both unsurprised and filled with dread to find that Jerry is at the wheel. It’s night again, which means he’s been unconscious all day, which is disconcerting. There’s not much to see outside, but Charley can tell they’re on a highway.

It’s a lot to take in at once, but Charley asks the first thing that comes to mind: “Am I dead?”

Jerry snorts. “You would know.”

Okay, so not dead at least. “Did you knock me out?” is his next question, because if Jerry can somehow handle sunlight now the whole world is probably fucked.

“No, I paid someone else to do it,” Jerry says. “I just drugged you after he dropped you off. And after I ate him.”

“I thought you said no hard feelings,” Charley grumbles. He twists against the cuffs and wishes he knew how to get out of them. There’s got to be some Youtube tutorials. What he’s for sure learned in the past twenty-four hours is that there’s a lot of knowledge more practical than Philosophy 101 he could have been pursuing his freshman year. If only he’d anticipated Jerry somehow coming back from the vampire-dead and kidnapping him.

“Well,” Jerry says, cocking his head thoughtfully, “Maybe a few hard feelings.”

Charley does not like the sound of that, so much so that he decides to risk turning around to fumble behind himself for the door handle. Not that diving out of a moving car seems like a particularly wise idea, but still probably better than whatever torture Jerry has in mind. But that all quickly becomes moot because nothing happens when Charley tries to push the door open. “Child locks,” Jerry says smugly. He could try to kick the window out, but not faster than Jerry could stop him. He could try and get Jerry to crash, but that would most definitely hurt him more than the vampire. Charley sighs, frustrated, and drops his head back against the seat.

“Go to sleep,” Jerry says, reaching over to pat his knee. Charley does - not because Jerry told him to, but because his adrenaline is crashing and whatever Jerry doped him with is dragging his eyes closed and it’s suddenly impossible to stay awake.

The next thing he knows he’s being jostled as Jerry carries him down a flight of stairs. Charley starts struggling, feeling like a fish caught on a line. He’s still cuffed, and Jerry’s arm is hooked under his knees, limiting how much he can kick. Charley grunts as he's tossed onto a mattress. There's not much chance to get his bearings before Jerry is looming over him, but it looks like the kind of bland finished basement he and his friends grew up hanging out in.

Jerry kneels up over him and settles his hands on Charley’s shoulders, pressing him down into the bed. It makes the cuffs dig uncomfortably into his back, and Charley reflexively lifts his hips to try and take the weight off his wrists, and - yep, that’s Jerry’s crotch, and Jerry is definitely hard, and Charley is suddenly _terrified._

“Here’s the thing, Charley,” Jerry says, a husky murmur close to his ear, “I’m an old-fashioned guy, and I want to do our first time right - you know, in the neck, but I don’t want to take too much, so I need you to be good and try not to jerk too much and make me tear your throat open.”

Charley immediately does the exact opposite of being good and tries to buck Jerry off of him. All that gets him is a laugh and Jerry grabbing his hair. He’s pinned all the way down to his calves. He can dig his heels into the bedding, but that's pretty much it. His head is pulled back, and Charley has never felt so naked as he does being this vulnerable and exposed underneath a predator.

“Oh, Charley,” Jerry says, “I've been waiting a while for this.”

Charley’s not embarrassed at the way he whimpers. He gives himself a pass considering the situation. He gives himself another pass for the way he closes his eyes and stays very still as fangs pierce his flesh. It hurts, like the jab of an extra thick needle, and it’s gross to have to hear the slurping noises as Jerry sucks, but the worst part is actually that Jerry’s grinding their hips together. In another context the pressure would probably feel nice, but all together it's like Jerry’s getting to vampire second base, and Charley is again trying very hard to _not_ think about the mate thing.

After about a minute, Jerry pulls back with a contented groan, and then tugs a corner of the off-white comforter up to apply pressure to the bite. He wipes his mouth with the back of his other hand and then licks the smear of blood clean.

Charley's feeling dazed, but he still has it in him to slur, “Did you pick these out?” He tips his head to indicate the blanket.

“I put a lot of work into getting this place ready for you, Charley,” Jerry says with a mean little smile.

 _Not_ thinking about it, Charley’s brain shouts. “Probably not the best color scheme,” he manages. “You know, with the vampire thing.”

Jerry barks out a laugh. “You're funny, kid.” And then - “I'm going to mark this whole place up with your blood. I want you to have to look at it.”

“Why are you doing this?” Charley’s voice comes out much whinier than intended, but he’s so tired and hungry and hurting all over. Of course, he knows the why, kind of, even if he’s still refusing to think about the implications.

The humor disappears from Jerry’s expression. He drops the blanket and then pushes two fingers into Charley’s neck, one at each incision, and it feels like getting bitten all over again the pain is so sharp. “Because you're _mine,_ Charley,” Jerry growls.

Charley’s fear spikes like a jolt of electricity, and he’s back to his futile squirming. Jerry rides his hips down _hard_ , and Charley feels it all the way through to his aching wrists. “Get off me,” Charley snarls. He keeps repeating it, and each time he does it turns a little more pleading. But Jerry’s a heavy, unmovable weight over him, the bracket of his thighs squeezing Charley’s legs still.

Jerry shoves Charley’s shirt up to his armpits. His cold touch leave goosebumps in its wake. Charley watches Jerry’s hand change, going a corpse-like gray, nails lengthening and thickening into claws. He touches his index finger just under Charley’s left nipple, and taps there twice before he drags down an inch, and then over. He does it slow enough that Charley can feel the shape of a five point star coming together as it’s carved into his skin.

Jerry bends and laps at the blood that beads up, and then shifts just a little to tongue his nipple. Charley can’t help but gasp as Jerry alternates between the two, and the soft pleasure and the sting blur together. Charley feels his dick twitch and start to harden, and _no_ , that _cannot_ happen. He focuses on every point of pain until his body gives up on enjoying any of this.

When it seems like Jerry has coaxed all the blood he’s going to get out of the cut, he sits up and goes to undo his pants. Charley slams his eyes shut in denial, but he can’t block out the dirty sound of Jerry touching himself. “Look at me,” Jerry says. He shifts his weight forward and Charley feels like his wrists might break. He reluctantly drags his gaze up to Jerry’s. “No, look at my cock, Charley.” Charley shudders and shakes his head. A threatening claw digs in below the star. It makes it through at least two layers of skin before Charley finally obeys, and there’s Jerry’s cock jutting out of his jeans,  big and hard and looking as dangerous as the rest of him. Jerry’s fisting it loosely, dragging the foreskin back and forth across  the shiny head. Charley’s never seen an uncircumcised dick in real life before. Then again, Charley doesn’t see a lot of naked dicks in general, cut or otherwise.

“I’m going to fuck that tight little ass of yours,” Jerry says, low and smug. “You ever done that, kid? Been experimenting at all?”

Charley’s almost tempted to say _yes_ , just to not give Jerry what he clearly wants, but self-preservation wins, and a sullen “No,” comes out instead.

“Good boy, saving that sweet cherry for me,”Jerry practically purrs. It makes Charley’s stomach twist, a little nauseous and lightheaded at those words. Jerry’s working his erection harder now, and Charley can’t seem to look away from the obscene pull of Jerry’s hand on that thick cock. That’s Jerry’s cock, and Jerry wants to fuck him with it, and less than a day ago Charley was studying for finals and totally sure he never had to worry about Jerry again. And it’s like Jerry can hear his thoughts, because he says, “You’re going to cry for me,” just as Charley’s throat gets tight and he starts to feel overwhelmed. Jerry jabs his thumb into the top of the star-cut, and Charley _does_. He sobs, beating his head back against the pillow because it’s the only movement he’s capable of. It feels like Jerry is going to go right through his chest and stab his heart - and wouldn't that be just perfect payback?

He hates the high, wounded noise that comes out of his throat. Jerry, however, sighs in appreciation. “It’s okay,” Jerry murmurs. “You tried, but you can let go now.” He smooths Charley’s hair back from his forehead and leans down to nuzzle the side of his face, and - fuck, he’s licking up Charley’s tears and breathing filth into his ear. “Gonna keep you so full of my cum.” The slap of flesh gets louder. “Gonna teach you to come on my cock. Gonna break in that sweet mouth of yours.” Charley’s so thankful his eyes are still watering and he can’t see Jerry anymore. It’s already too much knowing Jerry is jerking off over him and hearing- “Fuck, Charley, I’m going to put my whole hand in you and see how hard _that_ makes you cry.”

He’s dimly aware of the shots of cum that land cool on his sternum up to the base of his throat. He knows Jerry’s watching as a few more tears trickle down his temples. Jerry strokes his chest in a way that might be comforting if not for the slight bleach smell of the semen getting massaged into his skin and the twinges of the cuts Jerry keeps grazing

When his crying has petered out, he’s flipped over on his belly. The cuffs click open and Charley’s arms flop uselessly at his sides. A few seconds later Charley _screams_ into the pillow as the sensation of pins and needles assaults him. Jerry scratches the back of his neck like he’s petting a cat. “You want something to eat?” 

There's no way Charley can respond to that. He tries to burrow further into the mattress and away from reality, feeling the wobbling threat of another bout of tears. Jerry tugs on his hair. “I’m going to get you some food. What do you want?” Charley just shakes his head and hiccups.

“Fine,” Jerry says, and then Charley hears him walking away and up the stairs. He hears the door open and close and a lock turn, and only then does Charley let himself fall apart


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say thank you enough for the kudos and comments! It was such a pleasant surprise to have people excited about this pairing! I hope I don't let you down!

After a minute of full-blown hysteria, Charley tamps it down. He doesn’t know how long he has before Jerry comes back, but for now, since he’s alone, Charley gets up to inspect the room. There’s the bed, obviously, and an open doorway into a bathroom. There’s one vent high up on the wall, but no windows. Nothing is made of wood, not even the stairs. Charley picks at the edge of the dull beige carpet enough to figure out it’s concrete underneath. He climbs the steps and puts his ear to the door and then knocks lightly. It sounds like solid metal, and there’s a lock with a key code and a deadbolt turned on the other side.

Charley starts trying random combinations of numbers. There’s only like a bajillion possibilities to work through, he thinks with an inward groan. On his tenth attempt it starts beeping angrily at him. Charley curses to himself. It’s pretty loud, and Jerry is definitely going to hear. Fuck him for being so thorough, seriously. Monsters should not be this organized.

Crouched on the stair, Charley waits, still and patient, for the lock to turn. He's sure the alarm will have lured Jerry back - if only to gloat. It feels like forever before he hears the scrape of metal, but he’s tensed and coiled, ready for it when the door opens.

Charley dives past Jerry, his stomach skidding along tiled floor before he scrambles to his feet. He runs full tilt forward through a dark house. The windows are all - not blacked out like Jerry’s old place, but actually boarded up. Tiny slivers of daylight make it through, but none nearly big enough to take refuge in. The front door, when he stumbles into it, is padlocked. Charley pounds his fists against it, then starts trying to pry a board away from the nearest window. It gets him a splinter and a torn fingernail.

“You done?” Jerry calls from behind him. Jerry hadn’t even chased after him, had known he’d hit a dead end, and Charley can’t take it. He whirls around and sprints back towards Jerry, feeling some satisfaction at how surprised Jerry looks when he gets tackled. He knows he’s no match physically, but he also knows that Jerry doesn’t want to kill him, and that’s at least _some_ advantage. Charley gets a solid punch and a knee in before Jerry recovers and twists one arm sharply behind Charley’s back, and then grabs the collar of his shirt with his other hand, hauls him over to the basement and practically throws him down the stairs.

Charley goes flailing and tripping over his feet as he tries to not break his neck, and lands on his ass with a thump, only to almost immediately get yanked upright again. The short scuffle ends with Charley pinned to the wall and Jerry crowded up against him. Charley’s sweaty and out of breath, and of course Jerry is cool as a fucking cucumber as he leans in and puts his mouth to the bite from earlier, and _licks_ it.

“People are going to notice I’m gone,” Charley grits out as Jerry noses at his ear.

“Sure guy, you have lots of people who care about what happens to you,” Jerry says, patronizing. Charley’s mouth falls open, genuinely a little too stung to come up with a retort. “You are pretty, and white,” Jerry continues, “Probably not young and blond enough to make the news.”

“I told people you were back. They’re going to know,” Charley snaps in reply.

Jerry laughs and reaches back and pulls Charley’s phone out of his pocket. “Like Vincent? You think Peter Vincent is going to come riding to your rescue? Or your mom? You want to put her in danger like that?” Charley wishes so much, more than anything ever, that Jerry was human right now so he could _throttle_ him. Jerry lifts an eyebrow, “Now, I wouldn’t mind seeing Amy again. Want to call her?”

“No,” Charley says flatly.

Jerry shrugs and slips the phone back in his jeans. “They’re going to write you off as dead,” he murmurs, squeezing his hands around Charley’s wrists. Charley stays silent, glaring daggers. Jerry scrapes blunt teeth over Charley’s jaw, breathes, “It’s going to be fun to break you.”

And Charley, before he can stop himself, because it’s the one card he has to play, says, “I don’t think you want to break me.”

“That right?” Jerry says absently, sniffing Charley’s throat.

“I know,” Charley adds, feeling reckless.

Jerry gives him a sharp look at that. “What?” It sounds way more like a threat than a question.

Too bad Charley’s never been great at knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “About the - the mate thing.”

And just like that Jerry’s eyes go black, and he growls like a freaking hell-beast. Charley cringes instinctively, but Jerry’s got a tight grip on him. He’s helpless as Jerry drags his right hand up to his chest, cradling it there for a moment while Charley’s caught in his soulless gaze. Then, way too fast to even flinch, Jerry snaps his first two fingers back. 

It takes a second for the pain to explode, but then Charley shouts and pitches forward. Jerry pulls away to let him fall to his knees, then grabs his hair and yanks his head back.“You don’t know shit,” he snarls as Charley’s tears well over.

He leaves Charley alone down there after that. Charley slowly shuffles on his knees to the bathroom. He thinks it's probably too much to hope that there'll be anything in the medicine cabinet, but it turns out there's a box of band-aids. Charley would laugh if not for the excruciating pain.

It takes a while, but he manages to work his shirt off without jostling his hand too much, and then he wraps the bottom of it as tight as he can around his definitely-broken fingers.

It’s tough to keep track of time, but he sits there for quite a while. Jerry must really be pissed. Charley’s got water at least, and the lights are on, and if he stays absolutely still the pain is just a deep ache instead a sharp stab. If Jerry never comes back he might just starve to death slowly - what a comfort.

He's thinking about dragging himself back to the bed when he hears Jerry’s footsteps on the stairs. Charley lets his head loll back against the cabinet as Jerry approaches. “Fuck you,” he groans, trying to shield his injured hand with his good arm.

Jerry squats down. He’s holding a bowl of broth. “Lost my temper there for a minute, Charley,” he says with a self-deprecating sort of chuckle. Charley suspects it’s completely disingenuous. Jerry holds the spoon out for him. Charley accepts it warily. Jerry is staring at him so intently that Charley shivers despite how warm the broth is.

The thought of getting through the whole meal like this is unbearable. “Just give me that,” Charley says, grabbing the bowl so he can drink it quickly. Jerry lets him, though the creepy stare doesn’t let up.

“Hurts?”Jerry asks, when Charley’s finished. He nods at the hand Charley still has wrapped up in his shirt. Charley rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother to answer. Shifting closer, Jerry sucks his index finger into his mouth, and then drags it back out over a lower canine. A thin line of blood wells up. He touches his finger to Charley’s lips. “Open.”

Charley twists his head away, and Jerry slaps him with his other hand – a crack across the cheek hard enough that Charley gasps, and then Jerry’s finger slips right in to rub over his tongue. Charley bites down, even though he knows it’s stupid; all it does is wring more blood out of the cut. He gags at the taste, but Jerry claps a hand over his mouth, pushes his head back, and pinches his nostrils closed until Charley swallows.

There’s an immediate tingling at the base of his skull. Charley feels it spread out down his spine and into his limbs, and with it a realization creeps over him - his hand _doesn’t_ hurt anymore, nothing hurts. And then suddenly he needs to be closer to Jerry. He’s burning up, and Jerry’s chill seems so soothing. He drops his shirt and scrabbles for Jerry’s shoulders. Jerry sits down fully and lets Charley clamber into his lap. He’s smiling, and his eyes are so dark and endless that Charley thinks he could drown in them. His hands feel so _good_ on Charley’s bare skin. He whimpers at the touch of Jerry’s mouth at his neck, but it’s because he _wants_ it so badly. 

Jerry’s fangs sink in, and Charley almost comes in his pants from the burst of pleasure. But Jerry just takes one swallow, and then pulls back, licks the punctures, and looks at him thoughtfully. “You don’t taste as good like this,” he says. His voice isn’t angry or anything, but it still twists in Charley’s gut, because all he wants right now is to be good for Jerry. 

Jerry must see it on his face, because he laughs and hugs Charley against his chest. It’s a nice sound. It’s a nice feeling. “It’s okay, kid. I’ll eat later,” he reassures him, and Charley breathes a shaky sigh of relief. “For now though, why don’t you take the rest of your clothes off?” Jerry asks, and it makes so much sense, because Charley is _so_ hot. He nods eagerly and goes for his jeans, hands clumsy with enthusiasm. Jerry pushes him back down on the floor to help, tugging off his shoes and socks, and then pulling from the hem of Charley’s pants while Charley shoves down at the waist.

“Come back here,”Jerry rumbles at him once he’s naked, and Charley happily straddles him again. Jerry has barely done anything, but Charley’s dick is hard and leaking, has been since Jerry started touching him. It seems so obvious, so natural to kiss him then. Jerry makes a pleased noise and palms Charley’s ass with both hands, hauling him in closer. The kiss is deep and filthy, and it’s like being devoured, and it’s like, maybe he _can_ still be good enough to feed Jerry. And that, oh that makes Charley dizzy with arousal.

Jerry pulls away, but his fingers are right there to keep Charley’s mouth occupied, thrusting in and out, rough and perfect. Charley’s gone all fuzzy and weightless, and he remembers dimly that he hadn't wanted to do this earlier, but he can't remember _why,_ when Jerry is _so fucking hot_ , like hotter than anyone Charley’s ever hooked up with.  

He just wants to melt into Jerry; it’s like he can’t get close enough. He whines when he loses the fingers, but Jerry - hot, brilliant Jerry tucks Charley’s face into his neck and Charley immediately latches on to suckle at the skin there. He bites down, not strong enough to even make an indent, but he still thrills at the parody of a vampire’s kiss. He thinks Jerry must like it too from the way Jerry rubs his cheek over the top of his head. 

Spit-softened fingers stroke at his asshole. Charley’s played with himself there some, but no one else has ever touched him like this, and he’s proud he can give this to Jerry. All he needs is to know he’s pleasing Jerry. He can’t seem to find his voice, but he arches his lower back, hopes it will be clear enough.

“That’s good, baby,” Jerry husks at his ear. _Yes! Yes!_ ricochets around his head. He _is_ good, and Jerry gives him another chance to prove it when he eases one finger inside of him. Charley takes it, because he’s a good boy. He’s Jerry’s good boy. He’s Jerry’s _mate._ “Fuck, you’re tight,”Jerry breathes. Charley blushes at the praise. He can feel the way his body clings to Jerry’s finger as it pulls back. It’s easy to ignore the twinge of discomfort when Jerry pushes back in with two, to cant his hips at an even sharper angle as Jerry starts finger fucking him to the same rhythm he’d used for Charley’s mouth. _Perfect_.

“Take my dick out,” Jerry tells him, but he shouldn’t have had to. Charley’s ashamed at being so selfish. He rectifies it as quickly as he can, and then Jerry’s cock is in his hand, skin surprisingly soft - warm for Jerry, maybe a little above room temperature. “Squeeze it,” Jerry says, and then, “Harder, you’re not going to break it,” when Charley complies. Charley tightens his fist as much as he can, and Jerry hums in approval. “That’s it - show me how that ass is going to strangle my cock,” Jerry smirks and smacks his ass, and Charley clenches down on Jerry’s fingers automatically.

It’s _so much_. Charley jerks forward, mewls when Jerry grinds his hand into his ass and reaches deeper inside him. “Fuck me,” spills out of Charley’s mouth. It doesn’t even sound like his own voice, but he’s pretty sure he means it. 

There’s a flash of fang when Jerry grins. “I’m going to ruin you,” he promises with a growl. Most of Charley thinks that sounds amazing, but there’s a tiny voice of dissent in the back of his mind. It’s quickly drowned out though, because Jerry chooses that moment to take both their erections in one of his big hands. He thrusts up in a slow glide, and the friction of his cock against Charley’s, and the pressure of his firm grip is enough to make Charley come with a yelp. He feels it so much more than usual; Jerry’s still working him from the inside, dragging it out until Charley goes boneless in his arms.

He feels so empty when Jerry’s fingers leave him, but it’s also a relief from the overstimulation. Charley limply cooperates as Jerry repositions him slightly, and then Jerry’s cock ruts up between his ass cheeks, a little added glide from Charley’s cum. He feels a spasm at that thick length rubbing over his hole. He wants it _in_ , but also his chest tightens with anxiety because he knows it’ll hurt. That thought plants itself in his head, and Charley gets the same creeping feeling as before, just in reverse - a slow dawning of ‘what am I doing?’.  

Jerry pulls at the rim of Charley’s asshole with his thumb, and nudges the head of his cock there. Charley’s too confused to react with anything besides a slight whimper. Jerry huffs, laughing a little, “Just the tip, Charley.” Charley’s hands dig into Jerry’s shoulders, but they refuse to obey his sudden urge to resist. All of his muscles lock when Jerry pushes a little harder, but Charley still can’t move, just clings as he feels Jerry jerking himself off.

He’s staring right into Charley’s eyes when he comes, his hand keeping his ass pried open so most of it gets inside of him. Charley winces. Jerry smiles with too many teeth. “There you are,” he says, and then his fangs are buried in Charley's throat again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, and I caved and made a tumblr, same name as on here. Come, like, give me prompts or talk to me about head canons and stuff, because I am a catlady recluse with no friends.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added a tag for daddy kink because I am trash and can't help myself

Peter’s not awake when Charley’s plane is scheduled to land, but he’d sent a car - told the driver to make a little sign that said Brewster and everything. He’d gone to bed feeling, well maybe not optimistic, but at least slightly less frantic about the whole Jerry resurrection situation. Apparently they should have scattered the vampire’s ashes, preferably on hallowed ground. Apparently Jerry is a fucking cockroach.

Peter hunts pretty regularly now, but he thankfully has yet to run into any other vamps as old or as powerful as Jerry. Performing is still his main gig, though. It helps fund his little operation. He can only write off so many ancient weapons and krav maga lessons as business expenses after all.

He’s just texted his assistant to bring up coffee when his chauffeur calls to tell him the Brewster kid didn’t show. For a moment, Peter considers just forgetting the whole thing, but he’s not  _ quite _ that massive of a prick. He knows he owes Charley for saving his life (nevermind if Charley’s the one who endangered it in the first place), plus he’s not exactly thrilled that his parents’ murderer is up and about out there. Again.

So what does he have to go on? He knows Charley didn’t get on the plane, which means he can pretty confidently conclude that Jerry got to him, poor kid. But there’s still a window here. Jerry’s kind will keep their blood sources alive, and especially in this case Jerry’s going to want to feed off of him as long as he can. Peter grimaces at the thought. That poor fucking kid.

The clicking of heels on wood floor announces Coco’s arrival. She breezes in and hands him his over-priced coffee. Peter immediately dumps almost half of it out to make room for a generous portion of amaretto. Coco rolls her eyes, but doesn’t comment. “So,” she prompts, “you said something came up? Isn’t your inappropriately young friend supposed to be here?” which is ridiculous because Coco runs his schedule, and always knows what he’s doing, and she’s who arranged Charley’s flight anyway.

“As always, love, it is a delight to have you pass judgement on my life,” Peter says. “I need you to get in contact with a girl - gorgeous blonde named Amy. I don’t remember her last name and I have no idea where she lives, but she did swipe Charley Brewster’s v-card right over there by the fireplace, so we’ve got that to go on.”

He gets a familiar withering stare. “Please tell me this is vampire-related and not another sexual harassment suit.”

“Jesus, woman!” Peter splutters.

“Okay, here she is,” Coco says and hands her phone to him, and he’s looking at Amy Peterson’s Facebook profile. It’s definitely her - the sunny smile with a tantalizing hint of coquettishness. Peter mentally congratulates himself on having once seen her undressed. 

“How did you do that so fast?”

Coco sighs. “I’m logged in as you and I searched Charley’s friends. You are hopeless.”

Peter scowls and flips her the bird. “Can you get her on the phone?”

“Give me a half hour,” Coco says, sitting on the couch and pulling her laptop out.

True to her word, after about thirty minutes Coco hands him the phone and tells him to talk. By this point Peter has had a refill of just amaretto, which puts him right in his sweet spot of functionality. “Hi, pet,” he says.

Amy, coming through a little fuzzy - fucking iPhones, already sounds worried when she replies, “Peter? What’s going on? The lady said this was about Charley.”

Peter  _ doesn’t  _ pull the shit Charley pulled on him by immediately dropping the bomb because he is a fucking gentleman. “I don’t suppose you’ve talked to Charley recently?”

“Actually he sent me this weird message last night. I’ve been trying to reach him, but he hasn’t responded.”

Peter feels his stomach sink. Maybe better to just rip the band-aid off. He pours himself another drink. “You remember our friend Jerry? Well it looks like some arsehole power-that-be decided he deserved a sequel.”

He hears a choked little gasp from Amy and winces. “What do you mean?” she says, voice full of dread.

“Jerry is alive - or well, undead, and he’s gone after Charley.”

“How? Charley killed him. We were there! Wait, is Charley...alive?” Amy asks tentatively.

“I think so. Probably, but it gets worse; he came back with a - let’s say a fixation.” Peter pauses, starting to feel guilty about bringing her in on this, but she might be able to help, and Charley deserves whatever chance he can get. “Jerry’s powerful enough that his consciousness was still there in that basement, and he was able to rebuild himself, essentially, and now he’s back to make Charley his Winona Ryder.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“From the Gary Oldman  _ Dracula _ . No? Christ, I’m fucking old.”

“ _ Peter _ .”

“Sorry, love. I haven’t had much time to research, but when we were turned, you remember we had a mental connection with - with the, uh, sire?”

Peter does not like to think about this admittedly brief, but still traumatic episode. He’s sure Amy doesn’t either, but it’s the easiest way he can explain it. “There was this magnetic pull,” Amy says hollowly. “He was in my head, and I wanted to do what he said.” 

He shudders. He was just in the process of turning, but she’d actually died. He doesn’t know how much she remembers, but he knows none of it is pleasant. He wouldn’t blame her a bit for repressing any and all of it. “Well Charley unmade him when he staked him, and that created a similar...connection. Jerry won’t be able to stay away from him - is going to want to-” He realizes that Amy has started crying very quietly. “And I will quit talking now.”

There’s an awkward lull as Amy sniffs and composes herself. Peter’s the professional here, but he feels very much out of his depth. “There’s no need to get involved,” is his tentative attempt at reassurance; “I thought you might want to know, or that maybe Charley had gone to you, but you should forget this monster shit, and-”

“No,” Amy interrupts sharply. “No. What’s the plan?”

-

As it turns out, Jerry’s magic blood is just a painkiller (in addition to its other properties that make Charley sick to his stomach to think about). His fingers are still broken when the effect has worn off. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but Jerry had dumped him on the bed to sleep it off. He’d also taken Charley’s clothes with him when he left. Charley guesses it’s too much to hope for that Jerry’s doing laundry. After a nap that could’ve been twenty minutes or four hours, Charley wakes, disoriented, to Jerry standing over him with a plastic shopping bag and some food - a microwave dinner of Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes.

The gurgle of Charley’s stomach makes Jerry smile. He sits on the edge of the bed and starts unloading the bag. Charley’s very interested in the food, but Jerry sets it down out of reach. Bastard. There’s a bottle of water that gets dropped in Charley’s lap, and then Ibuprofen that Jerry taps out into his palm first, like he doesn’t trust Charley to take the right dose. “Doesn’t this stuff thin your blood or something?” Charley asks after he’s swallowed his two tablets. That’s a nice thought; maybe it’ll ruin Jerry’s next meal.

“It slows down clotting,” Jerry corrects, smug. Charley scowls and draws the blanket up to his chest, where the cut Jerry gave him is still raw and tender. Jerry pulls out a roll of medical tape. He grouches about how annoying taking care of a human is as he wraps Charley’s fingers.  Charley almost suggests that Jerry just kill him then, but he’s not hyped on the idea of becoming a vampire.

Of course, presumably he’d be allowed out of the basement. But also he’d be a vampire. It gives him an opening though, because Charley’s had some time to think about the little bit of info he got from Peter, and how Jerry reacted when he mentioned it, and he’s realized something: Jerry can’t help it, not like in a monsters will be monsters way, but like this mate thing is a compulsion he’s fighting and failing to resist. Jerry’s basically  _ fussing  _ over him, and just radiating resentment about it.

Once Jerry finally lets him eat, Charley scarfs it all down as quick as possible. It feels like the broth was forever ago, and that’s the only thing he’s had in at least a day, maybe two. It fully hits him then that he might be on his second day as Jerry’s prisoner. He has to get out.

Jerry must sense the change in mood, because he takes the empty plastic tray and tosses it to the floor, and then shoves Charley back against the pillows. “I bet,” Charley starts before Jerry can bite him, or...anything else. He swallows at Jerry’s hostile glare. “I bet there’s a way to undo this.” The threatening squeeze to his bandaged fingers should probably make Charley shut up, but he keeps trying anyway. “You don’t really want me. I bet Peter could find something, some ritual that’ll make it go away.”

Jerry leans forward until his forehead is touching Charley’s. He still looks very angry. “You’re right,” he growls. “I  _ want _ to kill you.”

Charley’s unfortunate instinct is to continue babbling. “Right, so let’s break the spell or whatever, and we can go back to just being enemies, and you can be single, and it’s not like - I mean, you’re straight, right? I mean, I’m guessing that doesn’t really matter to you, but I definitely got the impression you preferred women. And you don’t seem like the type to settle down, so-”

“Stop talking,” Jerry cuts him off. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

Charley stares at him in disbelief for a moment, and then, probably predictably at this point, tries to vault off the bed. Jerry ‘tsks’ and grabs the back of his neck and slams him down onto his stomach. “This is happening,” Jerry tells him, eerily calm. “I’ll give you a choice, though.” Then Jerry’s hand is in his face, bloodied between his thumb and forefinger. Charley realizes what he’s being offered and recoils, burying his face in the mattress.

He peeks back up at the rustle of plastic, and sees Jerry wipe his hand off on the sheet and then reach into the bag and come back with a tube of - Charley reads the label before he can stop himself - K-Y Jelly. It feels like a block of ice has formed in his chest, an ice sculpture in fact, of the words ‘NO NO NO’. Charley flails, trying to buck Jerry off, but Jerry presses back with more weight, keeping him pinned. 

“You just have to be difficult, don’t you?” Jerry grumbles. He curls an arm under Charley’s waist and jerks him to his knees. Charley flinches at the snap of Jerry flicking the cap open. “Tell you what,” Jerry continues, “I can tie you down if you prefer. That what you want?” Charley bites his lip and forces his body still. After a moment, Jerry slaps his ass. “Well?” he asks, and Charley realizes he’s actually waiting for an answer. 

An emphatic “fuck no,” is his response to that. Jerry laughs and spanks him again. Charley suspects that might be a  _ thing _ for Jerry, and he is  _ so  _ not onboard. That hand stays where it struck, digging into his flesh so much that Charley gives a little yip of pain before he can swallow his reaction. The low chuckle that gets sends a shiver up his spine. It’s not like he didn’t know Jerry was going to want this; he’d made his intentions disgustingly clear, but that doesn’t make him feel any less mortified when Jerry uses his grip on Charley’s ass cheek to expose his hole. A flood of heat overtakes him as Jerry pets with his thumb and Charley’s traitorous, humiliating asshole spasms like it’s fucking winking, or, worse, trying to latch on to Jerry’s touch. 

There’s no laughter now though. Jerry growls hungrily, and then his other hand is there, wet and sticky with the K-Y. Charley lurches away from the callous finger that suddenly penetrates him and twists to spread the lube, but Jerry just hauls him back with that same bruising hold on his ass. Charley knows Jerry did this to him earlier, but the memory is hazy, like he was watching it happen to someone else, so it’s new and uncomfortable all over again being stretched open. “Should have taken the blood, Charley,” Jerry taunts. “You’d be begging for my dick right now.”

Charley can’t quite manage a sarcastic comeback, can only make a strangled angry noise as Jerry works another finger inside of him. Jerry is irritatingly thorough in getting him lubed up; Charley  _ refuses  _ to be thankful for the preparation when Jerry is telling him it’s because he wants to make sure he can fuck Charley again later. 

By the time Jerry is twisting his wrist as he fucks three fingers in and out of him, Charley is hard. His dick is just as stupid and treacherous as his ass, he thinks, and the squelching sound his body is making with Jerry’s movements is yet another layer of embarrassment, all culminating with Jerry saying, “I think you’re ready for daddy’s cock,” as he pulls his hand free. He’s so obviously pleased with himself, like he’d already known it was going to make Charley’s erection throb even while as he wished for lightning to just strike him dead already. He would’ve been happy to never, ever find out that was something that could turn him on. Jerry must be infecting him with his pervertedness. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

Charley makes one last futile attempt at escape when he hears Jerry unzip his pants. He throws an elbow in the general direction of Jerry’s face and again tries to squirm out from under the vampire. “Seriously?” Jerry huffs, roughly grabbing Charley’s hips and rolling them onto their sides. He hooks an ankle around Charley’s calf and uses it to pull his leg back. The arm that’s under Charley wedges up until Jerry can scoop both of Charley’s wrists up in one hand. Except for the nudity, it feels exactly like getting caught in a compromising wrestling hold in gym, complete with inopportune boners.

“I hate you,” Charley spits.

“Yeah, hate you too, kid,” Jerry mutters, lining himself up with his free hand. That first push hurts, and Charley whines because he can’t do anything about it. He’s all wet and open and he can’t clench enough to keep Jerry out, but he’s not so loose that Jerry forcing the head of his cock in doesn’t still sting like a motherfucker. He’s braced for more pain, expecting Jerry to keep bullying his way forward, but nothing follows. Charley cranes his neck to look back, and Jerry’s just staring down between them with a faint smirk like he’s savoring his victory. He withdraws a little, and Charley feels a slight tug when Jerry’s cock catches his rim without enough force to pop out. He does that a few more times, until Charley’s muscles do push him out, and then as soon as he gets the tip shoved back in he thrusts  _ deep. _

Charley bites down on the blanket to muffle his cry. For a moment it’s like his body’s gone haywire, nerves all overloaded with how much it hurts, and he doesn’t think he can take it as Jerry starts to fuck him in long strokes, but the rush gradually recedes. Charley forces himself to breathe slowly, and each time he exhales the pain shrinks a little until it’s just that one pulsing ache of having a dick inside of him. The rest of his senses filter back in, and Charley can hear Jerry whispering “mine,” at the crest of every thrust, sounding like he might not be all there right now either.

There’s something almost hypnotic about it - “Mine,” a little puff at his jaw and then Jerry’s balls brush his ass, over and over. The way they’re positioned Jerry can only go so hard on him, his range of movement even further hindered by the jeans he’d just shoved down to mid-thigh. He’s mostly rolling his hips, and it definitely still feels weird and crampy, but also good. Of course Charley knew he had a prostate, in theory, but now he  _ knows. _ It’s never been like this for him. Even with Amy, who tended to take the lead, it was still actively mutual. This is so utterly passive and all he can do is lie there and feel it. It makes Charley feel very alone in his head. Jerry’s not even making the claim to him, more like it’s a bleary challenge to the universe.

He’s not sure what Jerry does differently, but his next push rubs in a way that has Charley jerking back, groaning as he tries to fuck himself on Jerry’s cock. It seems to snap Jerry out of his sex daze. He shifts so Charley’s half on his belly, pressed flush to the mattress. “You’re going to come,” he says. It’s an order. A ridiculous one.

“Yeah, I don’t just jizz on command,” Charley scoffs.

“I’ll keep going until you do.”

His groan is out of annoyance this time, but as Jerry keeps thrusting into him he starts to hump against the bedding. Charley’s dick is still hard, but he’s not sure if he can get off like this. This was his masturbation technique when he first started having wet dreams. He’d wake up sticky and then grind against a pillow until he creamed himself again. It makes him feel young and small to remember it. He fantasized about superheroes a lot back then, someone stronger than him who could protect him, pick him up and carry him like he was nothing, let him nuzzle into their big warm chest - like Power Girl or, yes, Superman, he’ll admit it, and - No, Jerry is not going to make him think about what other freaky sex things he might have lurking in his brain.

Jerry moves his right hand from Charley’s hip to his crotch. He doesn’t do anything besides hold it there, but it’s enough to give Charley something better to rub against. “That’s it,” Jerry says, voice dripping with derision. “Come for daddy.” And again, that awful word makes Charley lightheaded, makes him feel so unbearably hot that it’s like his cum is yanked right out from extra deep in his pelvis, like he’s going to be so wrung dry when his cock’s done spilling semen into Jerry’s palm.

Jerry fucks him right through it, a forceful staccato pounding. He waits to finish - deliberately, Charley thinks, until Charley has stopped trembling and gasping with his own climax. It’s the most aware Charley has been for one of his orgasms, and it feels distressingly intimate, that Jerry had just made that space for himself in Charley’s body and then come in him, and Charley  _ liked  _ it. And look, Charley had gone to the sex ed seminar during orientation. He knows that the fact he came doesn’t equal consent, but it’s easy to get a little confused with all the endorphins and oxytocin getting released.

It feels completely wrong to be having a post-coital moment, but Charley supposes that’s what it is when Jerry leaves an arm slung over his waist and bites shallowly above Charley’s shoulder blade. His dick has softened enough to slip out and Charley immediately feels like he needs to go to the bathroom. He hopes Jerry will be done soon, will leave him alone for a while now that he’s gotten what he wanted, but Jerry continues coaxing blood out of the small wound with his tongue.

“How are you even able to come?” Charley asks suddenly, mostly to distract himself from the glob of lube and cum he can feel trailing to the crease of this thighs.

“What?” Jerry says, sounding slightly exasperated.

“You’re dead; why would your body keep making semen? It’s not like it’s any good for making vampire babies.”

Jerry just tells him to shut the fuck up.

Charley does, but he thinks it’s kind of lame if Jerry doesn’t think about stuff like that. Jerry nicks him with his teeth again and sucks at the new bite for a few seconds, then he’s out of bed and pulling up his pants. He stops Charley from rolling over with a hand on his lower back, then slides it down to grope his ass. Charley winces. His body wants to tighten back up, but it hurts to clench even the slightest bit. “Good little fuck hole,” Jerry murmurs mockingly. “I have to come so I can feed this hungry little cunt.”

Jerry’s always been good at goading him. It’s partly how Charley got the courage to go up against him to begin with. Charley tips over the edge again and his mind whites out with rage. His thrashing catches Jerry off-guard, and Charley manages to shoulder check Jerry hard enough in the stomach that he goes down with a grunt. He drags Charley off the bed with him, laughingly calling him a crazy bitch. Charley’s just lashing out like a wild animal, clawing at Jerry’s face and screaming at him that he’s a fucking rapist and that he’s going to kill Jerry again and that he would rather die than be Jerry’s mate.

He can see it in Jerry’s eyes the moment he goes from amused to irritated. It makes Charley even angrier to be reminded that Jerry’s just humoring him by letting the attack go on. He’s basically a toddler throwing a tantrum - annoying but helpless.

“You think I care?” Jerry hisses, pressing Charley to the floor with a forearm shoved against his throat. “You know what mate means to something like me?” His face is doing that thing where it goes flatter, his mouth splitting inhumanly wide. His voice changes like this too, rusty and slightly garbled; it can’t be easy to talk around all those pointy teeth. It makes it all the more horrifying when he answers his own question: “You’re two holes for me to fuck - two holes that I  _ have  _ to fuck. It means you’re never getting away.”

It’s getting progressively harder to breathe, but it’s worth the strain to say, “It means you want me, and I’ll  _ never  _ want you.” Charley’s not surprised when Jerry storms out after that, all pissy again at the suggestion that he’s not in total control, like doing so doesn’t completely prove the point. He’s just glad that Jerry didn't break any of his bones this time.

Charley waits for a bit, until it seems like Jerry’s not going to come back immediately. He takes a shower, and thankfully there is hot water and soap. No towels, though. He re-wraps his fingers and huddles under the blanket until he’s dry, and then goes back to trying different number combinations on the key panel at the basement door. He spitefully keeps it up for a while, hoping the alarm is bothering Jerry before he thinks his head might explode and he can’t take the beeping anymore. And then there’s just nothing to do. Charley goes over every inch of his prison again in the hopes of noticing something new or coming up with some brilliant escape plan, but he’s got nothing.

He punches the wall once before he realizes he doesn’t want to hurt his good hand, and then switches to hitting one of the pillows instead. He makes himself sleep more. He keeps thinking about what he should’ve done differently, going over the sequence of events that brought him here. He tells himself it’ll be okay, and that he’ll see his mom soon, but he’s not actually feeling very optimistic. 

Later on, he remembers the shopping bag. He fishes it out from where it had gotten kicked under the bed at some point and finds three protein bars still in it. He  _ should   _ probably conserve them, but ends up eating one when he starts to get hungry again. He sort of gives up after that. It’s been hours. He ends up lying on his back with his eyes closed pretending he’s watching  _ Robocop _ . He’s seen it so many times that he can recreate in his mind pretty well. 

There’s a part of him that’s grateful when the door opens. Charley has never done well with boredom. He’s careful not to look eager when Jerry comes down the stairs and pretends not to be curious about the file box Jerry is carrying. When Jerry gets closer he sees that it’s packed with books. He tries not to notice that the side facing out is splattered with what has to be dried blood. Jerry sets the box down at the foot of the bed out of Charley’s reach and slides onto the mattress in front of him. Charley looks at him warily, and crawls forward to reach for a book, but Jerry swoops in and grabs his wrist. “Uh uh,” he says. “Me first.”

Only after he’s got his teeth in Charley’s arm does he shove the box over to him, like they’re exchanging hostages. He thinks he’s getting used to the stab of Jerry’s fangs, which is a terrifying thought, because he can mostly ignore the blood sucking as he sifts through the books. There’s some Bradbury and Asimov and some Star Wars novels as well as a few things Charley remembers having to read in high school. He feels a little sick thinking about where Jerry might have gotten them.

Jerry lifts his head and, as if reading his mind says, “He wasn’t as pretty you.” All Charley can think is how full of shit Jerry is.  _ Doesn’t care _ , please. Jerry had just brought him a present for fuck’s sake. Charley’s not going to make the mistake of thinking Jerry has some hidden fluffy side, but he at least clearly wants Charley relatively willing, and  _ that -  _ that is leverage. Charley’s worried he’s in for a long con, but his heart flutters as he considers how he can use this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks for everyone's comments and tumblr asks and patience as I took way longer than I intended to finish this chapter. My goal was to get to 10k, and I did it yay!
> 
> Some extras: [EstherCloyse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EstherCloyse/pseuds/EstherCloyse) was kind enough to make a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/coldenburg1/playlist/4X8dVnLS4Zk9BtEHkbn6PR) and an [image set](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=216432956), which was such a huge compliment to receive. And [here](https://eggshellseas.tumblr.com/post/157405465827/daddy-kink-anon-this-is-bc-of-ur-cockwarming) is a little thing I wrote on tumblr that could hypothetically be in this universe.
> 
> Also, I feel super weird about this, but I made a [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A602ZC4) page. I am really struggling with debt and bills, but please don't feel any pressure! I am food secure and not in any danger of losing housing or anything urgent like that, so only if you're really inclined and able should you buy me a coffee.
> 
> And finally, come be my friend on [tumblr](www.eggshellseas.tumblr.com)!


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